


Dominoes

by elaine



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is working in a BDSM bar. One night he meets the worst sub ever...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dominoes

  
As soon as Jim entered the room, he knew that this customer was going to be trouble. It wasn't just that he could see the tear tracks and snot on the black leather of his hood; the truly convincing factor was the way he could clearly see the scowl, even though his hood, like Jim's, covered his whole head and face, apart from his gagged mouth and a pair of wide blue eyes. Well, that and the fact that as soon as the guy saw him he started trying to talk through the ball gag.  
  
Not really a good idea, Jim thought resignedly as his customer began to choke. Definitely a newbie. He took the gag off.  
  
“Where the hell have you  _been_?” He was balanced precariously on his tiptoes, his arms stretched high over his head – it was either that or hang from the restraints like a slab of meat. Even so, he barely reached Jim's shoulder, but what he lacked in inches he definitely made up in sheer personality. He rattled the chains on his restraints indignantly. “I've been hanging here for _ages_.”  
  
“That's kind of the point,” Jim observed patiently, “And it's been five minutes. Exactly”  
  
The sinfully lush mouth opened, then closed again. “Five minutes? That's all?”  
  
Jim didn't deign to answer, but he thought he saw a blush heat the skin around the guy's eyes. He was rapidly revising his plans on how this would go. Newbie was going to get the most vanilla treatment Jim could think of at short notice.  
  
Maybe a few swats with the paddle, he thought, inspecting the tools of his trade laid out on the table beside him. But first… he picked up a small whip with a fine leather point and held it where Newbie could see it.  
  
The blue eyes blinked rapidly and a pink tongue tip flickered nervously across his lower lip. “Um…”  
  
“Quiet!” Jim barked in his best parade ground imitation. “I'll leave the gag off you if you promise not to say a word.”  
  
Lips pressed firmly together, Newbie nodded uncertainly.  
  
“Good.” He flicked the whip so the thong rested lightly on Newbie's shoulder, then trailed it down across his chest, brushing against his nipple on the way. Newbie gasped. “I said, quiet”, Jim flicked the whip again, this time leaving a faint red mark on Newbie's hairy belly.  
  
“ _Ow_!” The glare was back, full bore.  
  
“What did I tell you?” Jim held up the gag threateningly, but his heart wasn't really in it. This guy just shouldn't be here. “Look, let's just cut to the chase, shall we? Do you want me to fuck you?”  
  
Just in time, Newbie remembered to nod instead of speak.  
  
“You want to stay in the restraints?” He shouldn't even be asking, but it just wasn't worth the aggravation.  
  
Another nod. Fine. Jim drew down the other set of restraints and clipped them to Newbie's ankle cuffs, then adjusted them all so that Newbie was suspended at groin height in front of him, arms and legs stretched taut. Then, with a barely discernable sigh, he clipped a third set to the harness around Newbie's hips, adjusting the length to take some of his weight off his arms and legs.  
  
“Comfortable?” he asked, with only a hint of sarcasm.  
  
Newbie's eyes narrowed. Then widened again when Jim unzipped the front of his leather pouch and drew out his cock; let him see what he was paying for, and it might just encourage him to keep his mouth shut. Jim resolutely ignored the sudden mental image of those full lips wrapped around his cock.  
  
He moved around to Newbie's business end. Unlike Jim, Newbie was wearing nothing, apart from the hood, and a few leather straps decorated with silver studs, coming together at the front into a silver ring surrounding the base of his cock. Between his rounded cheeks, Jim saw the bulbous end of a butt plug. The colour told him it was the smallest size they had. He wondered, despairingly, if the guy had even been fucked before.  
  
Well, too bad if he hadn't. This was what he'd paid for, so unless Newbie objected – and he would, loudly, Jim knew – he was about to get the fucking of his life. But first, Jim twisted the plug, moving it in and out a little, giving the guy a taste. A soft groan told him that Newbie wasn't going to object – yet.  
  
He drew the plug out slowly and tossed it aside, picking up the lube from the table. His fingers first, Jim thought, then the main event.   
  
Finally, it seemed like something was going right. Newbie shuddered and groaned and tried to push himself onto Jim's fingers. Not very successfully, the sway of the harness saw to that, but with a certain enthusiasm. Taking it as a sign, Jim slipped a condom out of his pouch and discreetly rolled it onto his cock. He stepped closer, between Newbie's trembling thighs and, holding Newbie's hips, pressed his cock into the swollen hole.  
  
This was a particularly fine ass, Jim decided. Just tight enough to hold him firmly. He set about the task of giving Newbie a pounding to remember. The harness and restraints creaked and clinked, and Newbie groaned lushly, his head falling back, mouth open; his nipples hardening and a flush spreading over his chest. His cock had wilted a bit when Jim entered him, but was twitching eagerly enough that Jim was confident of his job performance.   
  
Suddenly, Newbie's cock swelled, spurting out milky strands of come over his chest and belly. His hips jerked in Jim's hands, his whole body convulsing in a gratifying display of passion. When the movements eased into tremors, Jim pulled out, removed the condom and jerked himself off over yet another satisfied customer.  
  
***  
  
Newbie had, thankfully, been the last customer of the night, and Jim headed for the showers, giving the nod to one of the assistants to go release the guy from his restraints and clean him up. He stripped off the hood, pouch and chest harness with a grimace for the sweaty smell and went to stand under the hot water for a good long time. Then he dressed in a pair of old jeans and loose, comfortable shirt, deciding against mingling with the 'guests' tonight. He just wasn't in the mood.  
  
So, instead of heading for the bar and the main entrance, Jim slipped out the side door into a small alley. Most of the men and women who worked here used it when they wanted a discreet exit. It was just a few steps to the street, and Jim was about to turn away from the discreet main door of Domino's (Dom's for short), when a short, long-haired figure emerged.   
  
He wasn't dressed like the Dom's usual clients, most of whom were business men and women, but wore a pair of worn jeans and a corduroy jacket several sizes too large. Probably bought it from a thrift store, Jim thought. He wasn't surprised when the kid took a deep breath and began to hobble in his direction. He'd been pretty sure at first glance that this was Newbie.  
  
The last thing he wanted to do was to get involved with the guy again, but some stray impulse of sympathy prompted him to say as Newbie passed: “Try to walk normally. It'll help your muscles loosen up.”  
  
Newbie flashed him bashful grin – he was really no more than a kid, and Jim wondered what the bouncers had been thinking to let him in. “You speaking from personal experience?”  
  
Jim found himself smiling. “You could say that.”   
  
He would have left then, but the kid tugged on the sleeve of his jacket, eyes suddenly wide. “Oh my god, you're  _him_. It was  _you_  in there.”  
  
Busted. Jim shrugged. “That depends whether you want to compliment me or complain.”  
  
“ _Definitely_  compliment, man.” Blair's grin widened. “This is one happy customer. In fact… look, you probably get asked this all the time, but would you like to go for a coffee?”  
  
“Sorry, I don't…” But the kid was already stepping back, hands raised.  
  
“No, it's okay. I understand. You want to keep work and personal separate. I get that, man.”  
  
But apparently, he'd changed his mind, because Jim heard himself saying “There's a café I go to just a couple blocks away. You want to go there?”  
  
“Yeah.” Newbie looked pleased. He thrust out a hand. “Blair Sandburg.”  
  
“Jim… uh, Jim Barnes.” He shook Sandburg's hand, wondering if he'd gone completely out of his mind. “The café's this way.”  
  
***  
  
In what Jim assumed was his normal clothing, Sandburg was a walking contradiction. He hid his, admittedly small, but nicely proportioned body under baggy clothes yet drew attention to his face with a mass of dark, springy, shoulder-length curls. His eyes and mouth were almost feminine, but his jaw had a determinedly masculine line to it and was shadowed with beard, even though Jim would have bet he'd shaved before going to Dom's. And he had strong, capable looking hands only slightly smaller than Jim's, but his wrists were almost as slender as a girl's.  
  
They spent a bit of time covertly summing each other up while their orders arrived and then their attention shifted to their plates. The café served some of the best pie Jim had ever tasted; tonight he was in the mood for sour cherry pie and it was every bit as sweet and tart as it ought to be. He savoured a mouthful while Sandburg slid a second fork loaded with toffee pecan between his lips with a blissful expression. When he licked a fleck of whipped cream off his lower lip it was almost pornographic.  
  
“Oh… Jim… you were right, man. They  _do_  make the best pie in Cascade.”  
  
He acknowledged the admission with a slight bow of his head. “I try not to come here too often, or I'd be spending all the rest of my waking hours in the gym working it off.”  
  
“I just have to look at pie and I gain two pounds.” It didn't stop him from taking another mouthful, though. “I can't believe I've lived in Cascade all these years and never heard about this place before.”  
  
Jim shrugged. “I've lived in Cascade most of my life and I only found out about it a year ago.”  
  
“Yeah? Where else have you lived?” Sandburg leaned forward, his eyes sparking with genuine interest.  
  
“I was in the army. I travelled.” Jim shrugged, “can't say I really  _lived_  anywhere.”  
  
Sandburg ignored the evasion. “Tell me about it.”   
  
He launched into a highly edited account of some of the more exotic places he'd been – Afghanistan, Somalia, Croatia. Sandburg countered with even more unusual places – Irian Jaya, for god's sake? What had a kid like him been doing there? Finally, he asked outright.  
  
“Well, some of it was when I was younger, travelling with my mom, and some of it was study – field research.” Sandburg looked surprised. “Didn't I tell you I'm an anthropologist? I'm a Teaching Fellow at Rainier.”  
  
After that it was all Fiji Islands and fire walking ceremonies and living in trees and Masai warrior culture. And a whole lot of other stuff. Jim tuned most of it out. After he'd finished his pie he leaned back in his chair, sipping a dark rich brew that was almost as good as the pie, and watched the kid talk. It was an entertaining sight, and explained why the kid had been so damn cranky back at Dom's. It seemed like he was incapable of talking without making fluid little gestures with his hands; they were never still for a moment.  
  
Usually, Jim didn't think about his work once he'd left, but this wasn't a usual situation. He never fraternised either. But now he felt a slow burn in his belly, and a curiosity that itched at his mind. The next time Sandburg paused for breath, Jim smiled lazily and said, “You want to go somewhere else?”  
  
His tone left little room for doubt as to what he was offering, but Sandburg blinked. “Somewhere else, as in…?”  
  
Amused, Jim clarified. “Somewhere with a bed.”  
  
“Uh… not that I'm not flattered. Or interested…” the kid actually blushed, “But, are you supposed to be dating clients?”  
  
“No. Of course not.” Jim's smile widened. “But somehow I got the impression that Dom's really isn't your scene. So I don't think that's going to be an issue, do you?”  
  
Sandburg chuckled and his eyes sparkled with amusement. “You picked up on that, huh?”  
  
He actually laughed out loud. “Sandburg, you are  _the worst_  sub I've ever worked with.”  
  
“Uh, thanks… I think.” The kid eyed him speculatively before ducking his head nervously. “Yeah, I'd like that.”  
  
***  
  
“Wow. This place is amazing.” Blair toed off his shoes and walked into the centre of the loft, turning around to survey the whole space. “It's a bit stark, but with a bit of paint…”  
  
“How about we don't start redecoration plans right now.” Jim slid his hands under Sandburg's jacket and lifted it off his shoulders. It dropped to the floor and Jim closed his fingers around the top of Sandburg's arms, drawing him closer.  
  
“Uh… yeah…” that pink tongue flickered across Sandburg's lips. The kid was clearly nervous.  
  
Jim sighed. He really couldn't do this if Sandburg was unwilling. “Have you even been with a guy before tonight?”  
  
“Sure.” Sandburg's eyes shifted to a point over Jim's left shoulder. “There were a couple of guys. Um… it was a while ago, but…”  
  
He was clearly lying. “A while ago?”  
  
Sandburg blushed furiously. “I was fourteen, okay? And it was summer and we used to hang out at this swimming hole, and…”  
  
“I get it.” Jim fought back amusement. Adolescent fumblings weren't exactly what he'd had in mind when he'd asked. “Do you  _want_  to do this?”  
  
“Oh, yeah.” The words came out in a breathy undertone. “I really wa…”  
  
That was all he needed to hear. Jim leaned down and pressed his mouth against Sandburg's parted lips. They tasted of toffee pecan pie and cream and coffee. Desire washed over him; something he hadn't felt in too long. He waited for the moment when Sandburg started to respond, to lean into him and raise hesitant hands up to clasp Jim's shoulders; and then he deepened the kiss, nudging the parted lips to open further and sliding his tongue into Sandburg's mouth.  
  
With a soft groan, the kid melted against him, and Jim released his grip on Sandburg's arms, running one hand down to cup his ass, the other into the thick mass of curls. Sandburg flinched slightly and Jim drew back a little, brushing his lips along the line of his jaw, nuzzling his earlobe. “Sore, huh?”  
  
“Yeah, little bit.” Breathless, eager. No sign of uncertainty in his voice.  
  
Jim grazed his teeth against the swell of Sandburg's jugular and felt him shiver. “We'll keep it simple then.”  
  
“Simple… oh…” Another shiver as Jim slid his hand up, under the loose shirt and across bare skin. “yeah… simple's good…”  
  
He grinned, lightly nipped Sandburg's ear, then took a step back. The kid had a nice chest, he remembered. Too nice to leave covered up. A quick tug and slither and the shirt was gone. Jim smiled lasciviously and reached for the jeans while Sandburg stood shivering and looking a lot like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car. Jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, and then the top button of his shorts. Another quick tug and the kid was naked, his jeans and shorts pooled around his ankles. Jim scanned him up and down and gave a little nod of approval.  
  
“Upstairs.” His voice made it a command. “I'll lock up down here and be up in a minute.”  
  
For all his failings in the session at Domino's, Sandburg made not the slightest hint of objection. In fact, he turned so fast that he almost tripped over, trying to get his feet free of the discarded clothing. His feet thudded urgently on the stairs and Jim glanced up to see a flash of pale ass disappearing into his loft bedroom. As he closed the last blind on the French doors he heard the creak of his bed and grinned  
  
By the time Jim reached the top of the stairs his shirt was unbuttoned and hanging open. He saw Sandburg's eyes follow the centre line down his body and come to rest on the front of his jeans. There was an audible swallowing sound. He managed to keep the grin off his face, staring at Sandburg until he reluctantly raised his eyes again. Then, without looking, Jim flipped the button of his jeans loose and tugged the zipper down.  
  
Sandburg inhaled noisily.  
  
“You want to do the honours?” Jim strolled to within reach of the bed. He slid one hand down into the front of his jeans and let it rest there.  
  
“Fuck, yes.” Sandburg sat up hurriedly, and scooted to the edge. He reached out and laid a tentative hand on Jim's belly, stroking over the flat muscle for a moment, then with both hands tugged the jeans off Jim's hips. His eyes drifted closed and he leaned into Jim's space, resting his forehead against Jim's abs. He thought he could hear the kid muttering something, but there was a roaring in his ears that prevented him from being sure. His cock surged as it was freed from his underwear, apparently not caring that it had already serviced four clients this evening.  
  
“…you're so beautiful, Jim. I can't believe…” Lips brushed softly against his belly, and a feather light touch on his cock sent shivers through him. “…want you  _so much_ …”  
  
He pushed Sandburg back onto the bed, crawling onto the yielding surface after him and they settled, lying face to face with just inches between them. Sandburg smiled tremulously, his cheeks flushed, his pupils dilated with arousal.  
  
They'd agreed to keep it simple, and it was… long, tender kisses and exquisitely slow hand jobs; simple and unexpectedly sweet. When Sandburg finally came apart under his hands that was all he needed to follow the kid down.  
  
“Oh, man…” Sandburg sighed deeply while Jim used wipes to clean them both up. By the time he'd finished the kid was asleep, snuffling into the pillow.  
  
Obviously, he needed training in the etiquette of casual pickups, but Jim hadn't the heart to wake him and make him leave. He tossed the used wipes into the trashcan under his nightstand and pulled the comforter over them both. As soon as he settled, the kid wriggled closer, drooling a little, Jim suspected, and slid an arm over his chest.  
  
He fell asleep, smiling, to the sound of gentle snores.  
  
***  
  
Something would have to be done, Jim decided. Not only did Sandburg have no idea that he should have left immediately after the sex, but he hadn't even had the courtesy to sneak out when he woke. Jim squinted at his clock. Still morning. That was even worse.  
  
Yes, something would have to be done; just not today. The smell of coffee and the sizzle of bacon frying meant Sandburg had a free pass today. Jim got out of bed and trotted down the stairs still naked, headed for the bathroom.  
  
“Oh, hey, Jim…” Sandburg's voice cracked as he lifted his eyes from the fry pan. He was wearing Jim's bib front apron. “…uh, I was going to call you in a minute. You've got time for a quick shower if you want…” The closing of the bathroom door cut off whatever else he was going to say.  
  
Emerging five minutes later, wearing his bathrobe, Jim found the table laid and a pitcher of orange juice waiting. A flurry of activity from the kitchen indicated Sandburg was almost done. By the time Jim sat at one of the places laid out, the kid was advancing on him with a place of bacon, scrambled eggs and a couple pieces of toast.  
  
Without the apron, he was wearing just his shorts and his shirt, unbuttoned. It wasn't a bad look on him at all. Jim grunted his thanks and thrust a fork into the eggs.  
  
“Not a morning person, huh?” Sandburg looked amused.  
  
“When I regularly work till four?” Jim said calmly. “No, not so much.”  
  
“Oh.” Sandburg's jaw dropped and he looked around as though even in an empty room someone might come to his rescue. “I didn't think of that. I'm kinda used to pulling all nighters once in a while, but I guess for you it's a lifestyle.”  
  
“Yeah, you could say that.” A long swallow of orange juice improved his mood and he allowed his expression to soften a little. “Thanks for breakfast. You didn't have to do that.”  
  
“Hey, least I could do… last night was…” His eyes glazed over for a moment before he shook himself and grinned. “Just… thanks, Jim.”  
  
So, this was just a one-time thing. Well, that was exactly how it should be and why Jim had been thinking of maybe inviting Sandburg over again… well, that had been crazy. It was just that it had been a long time since he'd had sex that was so easy and uncomplicated.  
  
They ate in silence for a while, but there was something that was bugging Jim, and he decided he wanted an answer. “Sandburg, you mind telling me something?”  
  
“Sure.” Blair smiled sunnily. Yeah, uncomplicated, that was Sandburg. “What do you want to know?”  
  
“What in hell brought you to Domino's last night?” He couldn't help grinning at the memory of that resentful glare when he'd gone into the playroom. “It sure as hell wasn't because you're into the lifestyle.”  
  
Sandburg chuckled and ducked his head. “It was… well, kind of a bet… a dare, really.”  
  
Jim remained silent, and politely incredulous.  
  
“You see, I was thinking about doing a paper on the rituals and conventions of the BDSM lifestyle, so I talked to a friend who's into it and she said I shouldn't do any serious study without experiencing it at least once.” A blush spread over his cheeks. “Actually, she said my approach was condescending.”  
  
Ouch. “Are you and she…” Jim gestured suggestively.  
  
“No, we're just friends.” Sandburg hesitated, “…well a couple times, but I really wasn't her kind of guy.”  
  
“But you prefer women. So, why did you ask for a guy?”   
  
“I just…” Sandburg shrugged helplessly. “I dunno. I mean I was in there and the girl was, you know, getting me ready… and I just thought, why not? You know, just go for broke.”  
  
“Huh.” Not exactly flattering, but then it wasn't personal. Time he remembered that fact. “No regrets?”  
  
“Are you kidding? God, no.” Sandburg paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “Uh… do you mind if I ask  _you_  some questions?”  
  
Jim considered it for a moment. “Are my answers going to end up in your paper?”  
  
“Not if you don't want them to. I mean… I might use them for general information, background, you know? But certainly not anything that could identify you in any way. The ethics guidelines on human research subjects are very strict.”   
  
Reassured, Jim shrugged. “Knock yourself out.”  
  
“Okay,” Sandburg's eyes went out of focus for a second. “So, do you take men and women as clients or only men?”  
  
“Men.” He hesitated, but what the hell. It wasn't as if Sandburg was ever coming back to Dom's. “It pays better.”  
  
“Okay…” His answer clearly bothered the kid. “Do you have sex with women outside of work?”  
  
“Sandburg, I hardly have sex with anyone outside of work. I'm only human.” Jim bit into a piece of toast and chewed for a while. “But when I do? Mostly women.” And he wasn't about to tell Sandburg about his reasons for that.  
  
“But not exclusively.” He didn't bother to answer and after a moment Sandburg rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, obviously. And you're not into the lifestyle?”  
  
“The Dom/Sub thing?” Jim shook his head. “I had enough of that kind of stuff in the army. And I'm not into pain, on either side of the equation.”  
  
“But you work in a BDSM club.”   
  
It was an observation, no more, but Jim felt his hands curl into fists. He forced them open again and picked up a napkin to wipe his lips. “It pays better.”  
  
Those blue eyes studied him soberly; then Sandburg looked down at his plate. “I'm not judging, Jim.”  
  
“Sure you are. Why wouldn't you?” He took a sip of coffee, wondering why he'd let a punk kid like this get under his skin. “Any more questions?”  
  
“Just one.” Sandburg smiled shyly, disarming his irritation. “You doing anything this afternoon?”  
  
He thought about it. It was a bad idea. A really bad idea. When Sandburg started fidgeting, Jim leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “Stand up and take off your clothes.” And when he hesitated Jim said it again. Calmly, but making it clear he expected the kid to comply. He wondered if he would. And whether it would make a difference if the kid refused.  
  
But after a moment Sandburg scrambled to his feet and took off his shirt, dropping it on the floor. He glanced down, shrugged, and pushed his shorts down. His cock was half hard and sprung free once it cleared the elastic, bouncing a little before swaying heavily just clear of his balls. He shifted from foot to foot, obviously embarrassed.  
  
Jim looked his fill, from wide shoulders to compact waist and hips. There was just enough chest hair to make his fingers itch to touch it, and Sandburg's skin was a pale gold that would fade in winter to the same creamy white as the skin below his navel. His cock was perfect, not too long or too short and tidily circumcised, like Jim's own. There wasn't anything there that Jim didn't want.   
  
He could feel the effects of this silent appreciation on his own body as he rose from his chair and walked slowly over to Sandburg. The kid looked up at him uncertainly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. Jim felt his eyes crinkle at the corners, saw the kid take that in and relax slightly. He placed his hand square on Sandburg's chest, feeling his heart quicken and the tickle of hair against his palm. God, it felt good.  
  
Sandburg moaned and leaned into him, his eyelids drooping.  
  
“Stay with me, kid.” He rubbed his thumb over a nipple, pressing firmly, then flicked the tip with his fingernail. Sandburg gasped, his eyes flying open again. Amused, Jim reached down and wrapped his fingers around the kid's cock. “Want to fuck me?”  
  
A choked gurgle was the only verbal response he got, but with his hand where it was, the answer was pretty damn clear. He chuckled. “I'm taking that as a yes.”  
  
***  
  
Sandburg came around a couple days later, knocking on his door in the late afternoon, and offering only the flimsy excuse that he had some more questions to ask Jim.  
  
Against his better judgement, Jim let him in.  
  
They didn't make it to his bed, making love instead on the rug with the sun streaming warm and honeyed over their skin.   
  
Luckily, Jim kept tissues on his coffee table for when his allergies hit. He cleaned them up while Sandburg lay panting happily, his jeans halfway down his thighs and his shirt pushed up over his nipples. “You do this again, kid, and I'll kick your ass down three flights of stairs to the lobby. You get me?”  
  
Sandburg smiled lazily. “You'd prefer the couch? No problem, man.”  
  
“Not the couch, either. Or the counter, or the table.” Jim wasted a perfectly good glare as Sandburg sat up and started dragging his jean up his thighs. He jerked his thumb towards his bedroom. “We take it upstairs.” It wasn't meant to come out sounding like an invitation.  
  
“Sure. Glad to, man.” Sandburg scrambled to his feet and headed for the stairway. Halfway up, he looked down at Jim, still standing by the coffee table. “You coming, Jim?”  
  
***  
  
They didn't exactly fall into a routine. After Jim gave Sandburg a key, he'd come home from Dom's in the early hours of the morning to find his bed periodically occupied. Sometimes Sandburg would come around in the afternoon. And occasionally, when Jim woke up, it would be to the smell of coffee and frying bacon. It wasn't as annoying as Jim initially thought it might have been.  
  
In fact, it was pleasant to lie, newly awake in his bed, and listen to Sandburg humming a song to himself and trying not to make too much noise while cooking breakfast for them – a careful sniff told him it might just be blueberry hot cakes today. It was crazy. It was certainly going to end badly. But it might just be worth it while they lasted.  
  
Too much of that kind of thinking wasn't going to help, so Jim got out of bed and headed downstairs so Sandburg could get his eyeful and  _he_  could have a shower.  
  
But the smile on Sandburg's face quickly mutated into a thunderous frown, and he dropped the ladle he was using to pour the batter into the fry pan. The clatter made Jim wince.   
  
“Jim, what the hell?” He hurried over and reached up to touch Jim's cheekbone, pulling back at the last minute so his hand hovered uncertainly in front of Jim's face. “Are you okay? Who did this? Did you call the Police?”  
  
“Easy.” He grabbed Sandburg's hand and pushed it down. “It looks worse than it is…” he ignored the snort of derision. Glancing down, he could see why Sandburg had over reacted – the bruises on his chest and arms were a dark purple, but they didn't matter. It was dark enough at work that they wouldn't be too noticeable, in fact they'd only add to the atmosphere. His hood would cover the ones on his cheek and temple. “It's okay, Chief. A hot shower will loosen me up, and I'm not working tonight. By tomorrow I'll be fine.”  
  
Sandburg thrust his lip out stubbornly. “You should report it to the cops.”  
  
“Sandburg…” his growl had no effect and he sighed. “It  _was_  the cops, okay? They saw me coming out of Dom's and stopped me on the street, and when I didn't produce my ID fast enough they threw a few punches and threatened to arrest me.” He shrugged, and regretted it; even more so when he realised he hadn't hidden his reaction well enough to fool the kid. “It happens sometimes.”  
  
He should have known that wouldn't fly with Sandburg. Outrage replaced concern and he headed past Jim to get the phone from its wall cradle. “I'm reporting this.”  
  
“No, you're not.” Jim snatched the phone out of his hand. “I told you. It happens. It goes with the job and if you make a fuss you'll only make it worse for me and everyone else.”  
  
“But, Jim…” He silenced Sandburg with a long kiss, but any hope he'd had of distracting him… well, he ought to have known better by now. “It's not  _right_. You shouldn't have to…”  
  
“Chief, listen to me. I appreciate the concern, but it's  _my_  life. And it's not any of your business.” He ignored the hurt look in the kid's eyes. “Do you hear me?”  
  
“All right! You've made your point.” Sandburg turned away, stalking off toward the windows.  
  
Alerted by the smell of scorching, Jim rescued the hot cakes and turned off the gas hob while Sandburg ignored him. He went into the bathroom and took his time in the shower. When he came out again wearing the bathrobe, the table was properly laid and Sandburg was behind the kitchen counter. He didn't look happy, but he wasn't obviously sulking either. It had been their first fight, and Jim wondered pessimistically how soon the second one would follow now they'd broken the ice.  
  
He couldn't resist asking: “Are we okay?”  
  
Sandburg raised sombre eyes from the plate he was carrying over. “I'm not trying to… to make some kind of claim on you, if that's what you're thinking. It's just… my Mom raised me to never accept injustice, and  _this_  is injustice. I don't care what you say. It just  _is_.”  
  
The kid was wrong; Sandburg had made a claim on him almost from the moment they'd met. But, god, sometimes he was just so  _young_ … Jim swallowed his anger and nodded. “There are just some things that aren't worth the fight, you understand? Please, just take my word for it and leave it alone. Promise me.”  
  
Sandburg nodded reluctantly. “I promise.”  
  
He waited until Blair had brought his own plate to the table, then leaned across and clasped his wrist gently. “Blair, I… just… thanks. For caring.”  
  
***  
  
He sent Blair away after they'd made love, though it hurt to see the expression on his face. The kid was obviously convinced it was because Jim was still pissed at him, but the fact was he needed some space to think things through. Besides, he had to go out later, and didn't want Blair asking any inconvenient questions.  
  
It was late when he left. He walked a couple of blocks, then caught a bus. Then he doubled back and caught another, going west instead of south. Then he hailed a cab and gave the driver directions to the small hotel that was his destination.  
  
When he arrived, Jim looked it over from a diner across the street for about thirty minutes, until he was satisfied. Then he paid his check and crossed the street, merging with a rowdy group of men and getting into the elevator with them. He got off on the fourth floor and took the stairs up another two levels. Room 632 was in a small side corridor, at the very end. Jim tapped gently on the door.  
  
The man who opened the door was a surprise. Taller than Jim and built to match, his dark skin made him almost invisible when the door shut with them both on the inside. Only a dim bulb in the bathroom illuminated the area and the chairs were well outside its limited range.  
  
For a moment, Jim contemplated making a run for it, but he pushed down the impulse. There was caution, and then there was paranoia.  
  
“You know who I am?” The voice was deep, slightly nasal and with a commanding quality that Jim found reassuring. He smelled of cigars.  
  
Jim nodded. “I wasn't expecting to see you, Captain Banks.”  
  
“The case has been handed to Major Crime.” Banks sounded irritated, but then Banks always sounded irritated. “We have reason to believe that the drugs scene at Domino's is only the tip of the iceberg. There may be suppliers involved and there are links to organised crime – the Russians, primarily, we think.”  
  
“That doesn't surprise me.” Belatedly, he sat in the second chair. Standing to deliver information to a superior officer had become instinctual in the army. Sometimes he still forgot. “I've had hints, but nothing I've been able to pin down.”  
  
“Huh. Well, I want you to get closer to management. This is a helluva lot bigger than a few 'alternative lifestylers' sniffing poppers and taking Ecstasy.” Banks shifted in his seat and drew a cigar out of his hip pocket. He rolled it between his fingers, but made no attempt to light it. “This could be a career boost for you, Ellison, if you crack this case.”  
  
“I'll bear that in mind, Sir.” Jim tried to hide how deeply he'd been affected by hearing his real name. He didn't think he'd succeeded very well. “There's just one thing I'd appreciate you doing for me.”  
  
“Yes?” Banks sounded surprised. He had a reputation as a hard-ass; probably wasn't accustomed to anyone asking favours.   
  
“Next time you send your messenger boys, maybe you could tell them not to be so enthusiastic?” He touched his cheek lightly. “It's bad for business.”  
  
Banks' chuckle was unexpectedly rich, deep and smoky like the whisky his father used to drink. His voice was amused as he paraphrased Jim's earlier response. “I'll bear that in mind, Detective.”  
  
***  
  
It was four days before Sandburg came back. Jim came home from work one night and found him curled up in bed asleep. Usually Jim was able to slip into bed without waking him, but not this time.  
  
He didn't ask what had kept him away for so long, mostly because he was sure he already knew the answer and didn't want to hear him try to make up a convincing lie. Instead he pressed a kiss against Blair's soft, sleepy mouth, not needing sex, or anything except his presence there.   
  
But Blair's lips parted against his, and his tongue pushed into Jim's mouth, drowsily insistent. And Blair's hands spread over his chest, moving in long, steady strokes down his body, like someone soothing an animal; communicating without words. Jim sighed and rolled onto his back, arching his body into the strength of Blair's palms. He grew hard without ever being touched sexually, but felt no need for release.  
  
Then Blair's mouth left his and travelled – down his throat and over his chest, lingering on a nipple before straying further. It was a desperately long time before he felt the brush of lips, the wet rasp of tongue on his cock. When it finally came, he moaned, almost despairingly, afraid that not even this, not even Blair could fulfil the hunger he felt now.  
  
How much more wrong could he have been? He clenched his fingers into the sheets and forced himself to rock slowly into Blair's mouth, while agile fingers alternately stroked and soothed, or drove him to madness, only to ease him back again. Until, sweating and exhausted, he couldn't hold back any longer, coming in agonising pulses into the depths of Blair's throat.  
  
Even then, it wasn't over. Blair's fingers slid out of him, only to be replaced by a slick, sturdy cock. He groaned loudly, not caring if the neighbours could hear him. Groaned again, as Blair's body arched over his and insistent hands lifted and spread his thighs, pushing him down, curling his body back to open him even further. It started as slow, deep thrusts and built into a driving, relentless, pounding rhythm. The harshness of Blair's breathing was all he could hear over the hammering of his heart. The burn of the cock inside him was all he could feel.  
  
One of them had to break, and he was already broken. So it was Blair who cried out and collapsed on top of him, sobbing for breath and shaking as though he'd run a marathon. He managed to lift his arms and wrap them around Blair's body, brushing his fingers soothingly over sweat-slicked skin until Blair's breathing slowly began to ease.  
  
Blair's cock slid free of his body and, with a reluctant mutter, Blair moved away from him to remove the condom and bin it. Jim pulled him back into his arms and they settled, legs tangled, their bodies too hot and damp to be comfortable so close.   
  
In spite of that, Jim was on the cusp of sleep when Blair sighed and said quietly: “I think I'm falling in love with you.”   
  
***  
  
When Jim woke, there was no sign of Blair. He shrugged it off and set about making his own breakfast. He'd need to get back into that habit, he guessed. If Blair ever came back… but if he did, then the best thing Jim could do would be to send him away again.  
  
It had taken a long time for him to fall asleep this morning, with Blair's whispered words and his own silence hanging heavily in the air. But what the hell did the kid expect him to say? This wasn't part of the deal between them.  
  
Yeah, some deal. Jim sighed heavily and took a gulp of coffee. He should never have let this start in the first place, should have stopped it as soon as he'd realised Sandburg had feelings for him.  
  
Should  _definitely_  have stopped it when he realised he had feelings for Blair… he was working undercover, for Christ's sake. It had been dangerous enough when it had just been a simple drugs bust, but now that the Russian mob might be involved it had gotten a whole lot more dangerous. He couldn't afford to be distracted and Blair… no,  _Sandburg_ , was a major distraction.  
  
Besides, he didn't have time for this now. He was spending more time at Dom's hanging out in the bar, looking for connections that went beyond the ostensible purpose of the place. Listening in on conversations, hanging out with the bouncers and other employees; he barely had enough time to sleep.  
  
If Sandburg came back, then he'd just tell the kid it was over.  
  
Then the door flew open and Blair came breezing in, clutching a brown paper bag to his chest with one hand while he pushed the door closed behind him with the other. “Oh, hey Jim… I wasn't expecting you up this early. I just went to the bakery for some bagels.”  
  
Jim stood clutching his coffee mug as Blair bustled about, putting away his purchases and chattering about nothing in particular. When he'd finished, Blair turned to him with a too casual air and smiled. “What do you want with the bagels?”  
  
Okay, so it seemed like Blair was staying, and that they weren't going to talk about last night. Jim shrugged, wondering how his life had gotten so far out of his control. “I dunno. Eggs, maybe?”  
  
***  
  
The middle of the week was often Domino's busiest time. Most of their clientele had other, more socially acceptable pursuits they followed at the weekends. Jim usually took Thursday and Friday nights off. The real lifestylers usually turned up Sunday through Wednesday. On Saturdays there was a different crowd, people who thought it was fun to dabble in the kinky stuff. Jim preferred to avoid them, but now he'd started going in Saturdays and even on Thursday and Friday nights too.  
  
This served the dual purpose of spending less time with Blair (“It's busy, Sandburg, what can I say?”) and allowing Jim to observe a broader range of patrons. It was also wearing him out. For the first time, he'd had to resort to the little blue pills to keep him going, and sex with Sandburg was becoming less and less frequent. And Sandburg wasn't saying a damn word about any of it, as if he knew that the next fight would be all the excuse Jim needed to put an end to their relationship.  
  
“Hey, Jim.” Sione the bouncer lifted his chin in greeting. “You're really working it lately.”   
  
“Saving up for my dream house.” Jim shot back, sardonically. “I've already got the deck and the swimming pool. Next up's the kitchen.”  
  
Sione chuckled. “Good luck with that, man.” He probably thought Jim was using, like most of the others, and Jim wasn't about to spoil that assumption. The shadows under his eyes only added to the effect, though they had nothing to do with drug use.  
  
He hesitated as he passed the big Samoan. “Hey, I've been kinda tired lately. And I've heard there might be something going around that could help. You know anything about that?”  
  
“Don't do no drugs, man.” Sione scowled, but then he shrugged. “I might know somebody. I'll ask around, okay?”  
  
“Thanks.” Jim smiled, punching him lightly on his massive bicep.  
  
Sione nodded, but he looked worried. “You be careful, Jim. You hear?”  
  
Jim nodded soberly. Sione was a good guy and he hated using him like this, but he still had no leads and Banks was getting pissy about it. “Yeah, I hear. Thanks, Sione.”  
  
Inside, the bar was starting to fill up. Jim went through into the staff only area to hang up his jacket and then went back to the bar to get a drink. The bartender slid his usual across to him – vodka and Coke with a heavy emphasis on the Coke – and nodded in the direction of a tall man with chiselled good looks and a thick mass of golden blond hair. “He's new, he's loaded and the boss wants him looked after.”  
  
Jim lifted his glass in a mocking salute, took a sip and headed in the blond's direction. They chatted amicably for a while and then Jim moved to another prospective client, leaving his card with the blond. None of his usual clients would be here tonight, so he needed to schmooze the crowd if he was going to get any work later.   
  
It was getting closer to the time when the back room activities would start, and Jim smiled with polished regret at his companions – two men interested in sharing a session – and murmured his excuses: “Sorry, guys, it's time for me to suit up. Maybe I'll see you later?” He handed over his card and made his way through the now quite dense crowd of men and women towards the discreet door beside the bar.  
  
He'd just opened the door when a small stir by the main entrance caught his attention. He glanced back and saw with a sinking sensation that the man who'd just entered was someone he knew – a minor tough guy involved on the fringes of an old, well established crime family. He slipped through the door and closed it quickly behind him, hoping like hell that he hadn't been seen.  
  
***  
  
Nothing happened that night and Jim escaped from Dom's with a sense of relief. It had been a gamble, but Jim hadn't wanted to risk screwing the job up by bailing unnecessarily. He stopped at a payphone on the way home to call the number Banks had given him and leave a message. He'd call again in the afternoon to check whether Banks wanted to meet up.  
  
In the meantime, Jim was happy just to get home and find Blair there, even if all they did was to kiss and make out a bit. He was too tired to get off himself, but he jerked Blair off, and then the kid sighed and wrapped himself around Jim and they fell asleep.  
  
He woke alone, to the shrilling of his phone. “Hello?”  
  
“Jim, it's Simon.” Banks? Jim sat up, suddenly alert. The use of Banks' first name, the fact that he'd called Jim at all, was a bad sign. “Can I see you today?”  
  
“Uh… sure.” Shit! “Where?”  
  
“You remember that café, down by the University?” Code for… for… oh yeah, for a warehouse near the docks. “Is five o'clock okay?”   
  
That translated to: three thirty, warehouse, docks. “Yeah, I can make it.”  
  
Banks grunted approval. “See you there.”  
  
He made it with fifteen minutes to spare, and spent the time watching from behind a dumpster in the mouth of a nearby alley. Banks turned up alone about five minutes ahead of schedule, looking grim.  
  
His expression lightened a little when Jim stepped out from behind the dumpster. “I don't like this. Are you sure this guy didn't see you?”  
  
“Well, nothing happened last night.” Jim rubbed the bridge of his nose, frowning. He could feel a headache coming on. “So I guess he didn't. The main thing is-”  
  
“You should have got out of there.” Banks scowled. “You're no use to anyone if you're  _dead_.”  
  
“Thanks for the concern,” Jim said sourly. “But the important thing is, this points towards the Lazar family being involved in this, not the Russians.”  
  
“I know.” Banks didn't look any happier. “I'll get the Feds onto this, but  _you_  be careful. I don't want what happened to Finetti happening to you.”  
  
“We don't know what happened to Finetti.” Jim felt his gut tightening all the same. He'd known the guy pretty well. The whole of Cascade PD had been on alert for months when he'd disappeared a year ago, but no trace of him had ever been found. “Look, I'll be careful. I won't go into the bar, but I'll see if I can find out anything more.”  
  
“Tonight. After that, it's over, okay?”  
  
“Sir-“  
  
Banks glared at him. “I mean it, Ellison. One more night, and that's  _it_.”  
  
***  
  
Blair's schedule included classes that afternoon, so Jim was surprised, and not entirely pleased, to find him in the apartment when he got home. He'd already started mentally preparing himself for the night ahead, and this unexpected change rattled him. And that, in itself was a sign he wasn't as on top of his game as he needed to be – a good way to get himself killed.  
  
He was greeted with a smile and a full body hug. “I cut classes,” Blair murmured, “I thought we could…”  
  
Jim disengaged himself and stepped back, handling him a little more roughly than he really needed to. “Not now, Sandburg.”  
  
“Is something wrong?” Blair came after him as he headed upstairs. “Jim, is something-”  
  
“Nothing's wrong.” Jim snapped. “I'm just not in the mood and I've got to go in early, so you'll have to scratch your own itches tonight, okay?”  
  
Blair's eyes widened and he blinked. “Woah, Jim, that's pretty harsh. I just wanted-”  
  
“And I  _told_  you. I'm not interested.” He pulled a shirt and pants out of his closet, tossing them on the bed. “Maybe you should just go.” He turned his back on Blair, opening a drawer to rummage unnecessarily through his underwear and socks. He heard Blair's footsteps going down the stairs.  
  
“I'll see you later.” Blair's voice floated up to him, them the door opened and closed again with a quiet click.  
  
Way to make him feel like shit, Jim thought resentfully; then realised that he was acting like an asshole, so what else could he expect? He slammed the drawer shut and hurried down the stairs.  
  
Jim caught up with him half a block down the street. “Blair! Wait up.”  
  
“What do you  _want_ , Jim?” Despite putting on a defiant façade, Blair looked miserable.  
  
“I'm sorry.” He put his hands on Blair's shoulders and leaned in to kiss him. Just a quick, tender kiss but when he drew back some of the unhappiness had ebbed from Blair's eyes. “I'm just… it's a difficult time at work right now. I shouldn't have taken it out on you.”  
  
“No. You shouldn't.” But now he was smiling. He faked a punch at Jim's shoulder. “You can make it up to me sometime, asshole.”  
  
“Yeah.” Jim found himself smiling. “Soon, okay?” He cupped Blair's cheeks for a brief moment. “Will you be there tonight when I come home?”  
  
Blair's eyes searched his face. “If you want me.”   
  
It seemed like there was more at stake here than just tonight, Jim thought. He nodded, keeping his eyes locked on Blair's, and there was a promise in his voice when he said, simply. “I want you.”  
  
“Okay.” Blair nodded; promise understood and accepted.  
  
Jim kissed him, on the temple this time, light and teasing. “See you later.”  
  
***  
  
The bouncer tonight was new. Jim nodded in passing and, when he got into the staff area, asked about Sione and Jack; but nobody knew anything about why they weren't at work, or who the new guy was. It raised alarm bells, but without something more concrete, Jim wasn't about to blow six months of undercover work on an unexpected change of staff.  
  
Conveniently forgetting his promise to Banks, Jim went into the bar to mingle, keeping a wary eye on the guest entrance. Nothing untoward happened, though it seemed like a long time until it was late enough to go prepare for his first client.  
  
Now that the end was in sight, he was finding it increasingly harder to get himself in the right frame of mind to play out his role. For the first time since the early days, it really  _felt_  like a role, something he'd assumed. Most of the time he'd been working at Dom's he'd simply  _been_  Jim Barnes, prostitute. He didn't feel like that person any more.  
  
A big part of that was directly due to Blair, he knew. It was why he'd been so damn cranky with the kid lately.  
  
One more night. With a sigh, Jim took a small plastic jar out of his locker and shook a couple of little blue pills into his hand, swallowing them down without water. He couldn't let this get to him, not now.  
  
With a deep breath and a sharp shake of his head, Jim went out to receive his first client of the night.  
  
***  
  
“One more to go, Jim.” Tran passed Jim one of the discreet membership cards as he headed for the locker room.  
  
Jim stopped, frowning. “I've already done four tonight. Can't Ryan take him?” But he glanced down at the card and grimaced. It was one of his regulars, a guy who always asked for Jim and was enough of an asshole that he'd make a fuss if Jim wasn't available. The last thing Jim needed tonight was any trouble.  
  
It had been a complete bust as far as gathering any more information was concerned, and he regretted not taking Banks' advice. Now that he could allow himself to think of a life beyond this place it had made it even more difficult to carry out his role tonight.  
  
He sighed. “Okay, I'll take him. Get him ready will you? But take your time. I'll be back in fifteen.”  
  
In the locker room, he heard the splash of the shower from the bathroom; some lucky bastard finishing early. Jim made do with running baby wipes over his chest and arms, lifting the straps across his chest to wipe underneath as well. He pushed down his leather pouch and cleaned his cock and behind his balls, then smoothed some gel over his cock. No sense in getting chafed there on his last night.  
  
He thought about going home to Blair tonight and making love, knowing that he would never again have to leave their bed to service any stranger willing to pay for him. No, he thought, suddenly. They wouldn't make love tonight. He'd give it a day, maybe two; completely separate himself from this place, and  _then_  they'd make love. It would be a new start to their relationship.  
  
It was a good thought, and made the prospect of going to this one last client a lot less distasteful to him. Jim was even smiling a little as he headed back to the room he'd been using all night. He paused outside the door and put his game face on, then opened the door.  
  
Inside, there was no client trussed up and waiting. There were three men, two of whom he'd never seen before; the third was Blair, fully dressed, but gagged and hanging from the restraints. In the moment's hesitation as Jim took in the scene, he was lost. Someone shoved him from behind and as he recovered from his stumble he saw in the dim light that one of the men was holding a Beretta to Blair's head.  
  
“That's right, Ellison. One step outta line and we'll see how pretty your boyfriend looks with his brains splattered on the wall.” He tugged on a handful of hair, forcing Blair's head back. “So, I'm advising you to cooperate when we truss you up like a Thanksgiving turkey. Or maybe you don't care about him, but in that case I'll just shoot you in the kneecap.”  
  
Jim was already cooperating, allowing the man behind him to shove him in Blair's direction, and submitting to having his wrists put into leather cuffs and clipped to the other pair of ceiling restraints. He adjusted the restraints so Jim's feet were off the ground.  
  
The first man grunted. “That'll keep them till the boss is ready.” He came over to Jim, having to look up at him now. “Don't think you can call for help. There'll be someone just outside the door.”  
  
There wasn't any point in answering so Jim didn't. But as soon as the door shut behind the men, he took hold of the chains and pulled himself up until he could reach the shoulder strap of his harness. Slipped between the two layers of leather was a sturdy piece of wire – one of several he'd had secreted around his outfit. It was difficult to retrieve; he had to support most of his weight with just one arm and find the wire without being able to see it. It took several attempts, and his right arm was trembling with fatigue by the time he succeeded. If he dropped it, the only alternative he could reach was in his boot, and to get that, he'd practically have to be a gymnast.  
  
Taking it slowly, Jim probed the wire into the lock of his cuff. His fingers were sweaty and unsteady, but he'd practiced this so often he knew he could do it, if not as easily as he should have. The lock clicked and opened and Jim switched the wire to his other hand. A moment later, he was free.  
  
Blair, watching until then in wide-eyed silence, began to make muffled noises behind the mask. Jim held a finger to his lips and went to free him. He loosened the gag first, silencing Blair with a kiss, followed by a hand lightly placed over his mouth. “Don't speak above a whisper.”  
  
Blair nodded, and as soon as Jim released him, “What the hell is going on here, Jim? And why did those goons call you Ellison?”  
  
“Because that's my name.” Jim started on the cuff holding Blair's left wrist. “I've been working undercover here for months.”  
  
“You're a  _cop_?” Blair hissed incredulously. The lock clicked and he lowered his arm with a hitch of his breath and a soft moan. “They  _kidnapped_ me, man. They followed me to my warehouse and grabbed me.”  
  
So, he'd been followed, and they'd caught that little scene on the street. “They wanted to use you as a bargaining chip.” The second lock was proving difficult and Jim's fingers were still shaking. “Keep still.”  
  
“You've got a plan to get out of here, right?”  
  
“I'm thinking…” he released Blair's other hand and steadied him as his knees buckled. “They all depend on you being able to walk.”  
  
“I'll be okay.” Blair glared at him, rubbing his newly freed wrist and arm. “Just let me walk around a bit. I've been here a while.”  
  
“We may not have much time.” Jim warned him. Dom's would be closing soon, and after that escape would be a hell of a lot more difficult. Of course, he thought suddenly, it would be easier if only one of them had to get out. He prowled around the room, looking for anything that might be of use, but all the tools of his trade had been removed. There was nothing but the restraints and Blair's gag.  
  
Well, they'd just have to work with what they had. “Listen. I'm going to put the restraints back on – loosely so you can get out of them. I want you to go limp, let your head fall back, like you've swallowed your tongue. I'll call for help and when they come in, we can make a break for it.”  
  
Blair looked sceptical. “Isn't that a bit obvious?”  
  
“Not if they think we're both still chained up.” Jim hoped he was right. He'd have a few seconds at most before they realised it was a set up. “They won't want to risk losing you as a hostage.”  
  
Blair didn't look convinced, but he didn't object when Jim closed the cuffs loosely around his wrists. He had to hold onto the chains so he didn't slip out of them, but in the excitement it seemed unlikely their captors would notice.  
  
“Wait till I make a move, get them distracted, and then get the hell out of here.” Jim cupped Blair's chin in his hand, thumb stroking the side of his jaw. “When you get into the hallway turn left-”  
  
“But, Jim-“  
  
“Just listen.” Jim hissed. “Where the hall turns to the right there's a door on the left. It goes into the bar where the johns wait. You should be safe in there. To the right of the door there's a phone. I want you to call 555 4389 and tell whoever answers what's going down. Tell them to get a message through to Captain Banks in Major Crime. And then get out, okay?” Anticipating Blair's objections, he pressed a quick kiss to Blair's lips, then tugged the ball gag into place. “I'll join you as soon as I can. Believe me, I just want both of us to get out of here in one piece. Promise me you'll do it. One of us has to sound the alarm.”  
  
Blair nodded reluctantly and Jim patted his cheek lightly. “It'll all be over soon, I swear.”  
  
Jim went back to his own restraints and wrapped them loosely around his wrists, holding onto the chains to support his weight. He glanced over at Blair, who gave him a long look before going completely limp, his head lolling back. It was almost enough to fool Jim, and he grinned briefly before yelling for help.  
  
“Shut up in there.” A thump on the door reinforced the command.  
  
“He's choking! I think he's swallowed his tongue.” He ignored a baleful glance from Blair. “You want him alive, you'd better get in here.”  
  
The door opened just enough to allow a head to poke through, and luckily, the light that streamed in didn't come near either of them. Jim thought he saw Blair's leg twitch – a nice touch he thought approvingly. “Come on!” He injected a note of panic into his voice. “He's _dying_.”  
  
This time, Blair's whole body convulsed weakly, swaying in the restraints. It looked pretty damned genuine, and seemed to convince their guards. Two of them came into the room, one grabbing hold of Blair around the hips and lifting him, the other reaching up for his wrists. There was no sign of the third.  
  
There wasn't going to be a better chance. Jim let go of the chains and lunged for the nearest guard, whose back was turned. He cannoned into the much heavier man, knocking him into the other guard and managing to land a solid punch to his kidneys. Both men went down heavily and Blair scrambled out of the way.  
  
“Get out.” Jim hissed, shoving Blair towards the door. “And be careful.”  
  
The guard he'd punched was on his hands and knees groaning – he'd recover soon enough, too soon for Jim's liking – but the other had already got halfway to his feet. Jim swung a kick at his head, but only succeeded in grazing his jaw, as the guard dodged. He circled the two of them, putting himself between them and the doorway. Another kick was too risky, his opponent was expecting it now; he could grab Jim's ankle and pull him off balance. Jim waited until he'd got to his feet, then closed in, feinting left and then landing a right on his jaw. He pulled back; the guy was big, solidly built, and that made him slower. As long as Jim kept out of reach, he'd be okay.  
  
And as long as the other guard was still sluggish and in pain from the blow to his kidneys… Jim moved closer, got in a couple punches before backing away again. They didn't seem to have much of an effect, and Jim realised that he wasn't going to finish this off any time soon. He danced to one side and got in a kick to the first guard's ribs, sending him back onto his knees, but the other guy was catching on and moved to cover his partner.   
  
Jim hoped like hell that Blair had reached the phone by now. He was getting closer to the door, which wasn't good, but better than being trapped against the wall or in a corner. He was listening for footsteps now, wondering what had become of the third man.  
  
It became a slugfest, and Jim took his share of the punishment. As the first guard recovered, it became impossible to hold his ground. He opted to move to the side, circling round and hoping that they were more concerned with subduing him than going after Blair. As he'd hoped, they followed. Surely Blair must have made it out of the club by now. Surely he'd made the phone call. How long would it take to get a response?  
  
A stinging blow to his cheek focused his mind on the job at hand. The two guards were looking the worse for wear, one with a cut lip and a reddening bruise on his jaw, the other with a swelling eye and bloody nose. It wasn't slowing them down any. Then the thing that Jim had feared happened. A shadow darkened the doorway.   
  
Jim made one last rush, fists pummelling to little effect. The new arrival made no effort to join the fight. Jim didn't even see the gun in his hand until the muzzle flash half blinded him. Agonising pain flared through his left leg and it folded under him. He went down hard, and the other two men closed in. Kicks landed on his ribs and back as he rolled, trying to escape. His head snapped back as another kick impacted his temple, leaving his vision blurred and a ringing in his ears. He thought he heard something else… the fire alarm? Then another kick sent white light flaring behind his eyes, fading to black, and silence.  
  
***  
  
The ground beneath him was moving… and it wasn't as hard as it ought to be. The ringing in his ears was more like a high pitched wailing and the lights were too bright. Then everything lurched and Jim opened his eyes with a groan.  
  
He was in an ambulance.  
  
Immediately sensation flooded him, mostly pain – his head, his ribs, and worst of all, his leg.  
  
Where was Blair?  
  
Jim tried to push himself up as the ambulance lurched again. A hand held him down. “Take it easy, tough guy. We're almost there.”  
  
“No! I need…” his voice was slurred and weak. Jim swallowed and took a deep breath. “My friend… Blair Sandburg. I need to… is he okay?”  
  
The paramedic shrugged. “I don't know about any friend. You were the only one who needed medical attention.” And when Jim struggled she added soothingly, “I'm sure he'll find you at the hospital. Just keep still for now.”  
  
“You don't understand…” he was starting to fade again, “I'm a co…”  
  
***  
  
Jim woke again in a cubicle in the ER. He didn't even have to open his eyes – he knew the sounds, the smells all too well. Someone was close by. Jim forced his eyes open.  
  
A nurse wearing scrubs was adjusting his IV bag. She smiled when she saw he was awake. “Well, hello, handsome. You feel up to answering a few questions?”  
  
Jim closed his eyes with a sigh, but gave her the information she requested. He could practically do it in his sleep. When she'd finished, she patted his hand. “You rest now, you'll be in surgery before you know it.”  
  
“Wait.” He caught hold of her wrist. “I need to know… I've got a friend…”  
  
“I'm sure you do, honey.” Her smile widened, and Jim realised with a twinge of discomfit that she had probably been present when the orderlies stripped off his gear and put him into the hospital gown.  
  
“No… he might be out there.” Shit! If only he could get the urgency he was feeling into words. His brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool. “It's important. Has anyone asked for me?”  
  
“Not that I know of.” She gently – and too easily – disengaged his hand, but then her expression softened. “I'll ask the receptionist if anyone's been asking after you, okay? But you have to rest.”  
  
“He…” Jim felt oddly embarrassed. “He might be asking for a Jim Barnes.”  
  
“Right…” She shook her head, but smiled kindly enough at him before she left.  
  
Time dragged out, slow as molasses. Jim could hear voices in the distance from the waiting room, he supposed. He heard footsteps passing. In spite of the harshness of the lighting, he kept his eyes open, and after a while they started to tear up. He needed to stay awake in case Blair came. He needed to know Blair was safe.  
  
Fuck! He should have told that nurse he was a cop. Should have asked for her to contact the police, get people looking for Blair.  _Anything_  could have happened to him. His fingers clenched in the thin sheet that covered him and he thought about trying to get off the gurney. Somehow he doubted he'd get even a step away, but the crash as he fell would at least bring someone running.  
  
Hurried footsteps came towards the cubicle and Jim gathered his strength to call out, but it proved unnecessary. The curtain was wrenched aside and Blair came in, almost skidding to a stop beside the gurney.   
  
“Jim! Oh Jim, thank god…” the rest was muffled against Jim's lips as Blair tried to talk and kiss him at the same time. Something about a gunshot and the fire alarm and the paramedics and fascist security guards… “and don't you  _ever_  do anything as crazy as that again.”  
  
Inexplicably, Jim suddenly felt a lot better. He caught hold of Blair's hand, rubbing his thumb across the knuckles. “Chief, I'm a cop. It goes with the job.”  
  
“Then, you're…” Blair pressed his lips firmly together. After a moment he sighed. “Okay. It's gonna take a while to process this, but I'll deal. But, Mom… god only knows what Naomi's going to say when she finds out I'm dating a pi… a cop.”  
  
Jim realised he was grinning pretty much from ear to ear. “And you're okay? You got out okay?”  
  
“Well, obviously.” Blair swooped in for another kiss, less frantic this time. Jim lifted his free hand to cup Blair's cheek and sighed with drowsy pleasure.   
  
“Ellison!” Banks' voice, loud, irritated, and much too close made Jim jump almost off the gurney and Blair pull away hurriedly. Banks' famous glare turned on Blair. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in here?”  
  
“Who am  _I_?” Blair drew himself up almost onto his tiptoes returning Banks' glare with interest. “Who are  _you_?”  
  
“I'm  _his_  boss.” Banks jabbed a finger in Jim's direction, his face like a thundercloud. “And you are?”  
  
Blair's dismayed face turned to Jim's, and without pausing to think about what he was about to do, Jim said, more calmly than he felt, “he's my partner. Blair Sandburg.”   
  
The smile that spread across Blair's face was enough to make up the sudden frown that creased Banks' forehead. Then Blair's jaw jutted pugnaciously and he left Jim's side, stalking around the end of the gurney and not stopping until he was directly in front of Banks. He barely came up to the centre of Banks' chest, but that didn't prevent him from jabbing an accusatory finger in the air between them. “ _You're_  Jim's boss? Then why didn't you take better care of him, dammit?  _Look_  at him! Why didn't he have  _proper_  backup?”   
  
Jim watched in amazement as Banks actually backed up a couple of steps during Blair's furious tirade. “He was in danger, man! And all he had was that stupid phone number that didn't even _work_  and when I dialled 911 they wouldn't believe me so I had to set off the fucking fire alarm to get help, and Jim could have been  _killed_ …”  
  
“All right.” Banks held his hands up in a placating gesture that Blair completely ignored.  
  
“…and when the pigs finally came they wouldn't let me back into the building to find Jim, or let me anywhere near him when the paramedics brought him out, and then they wouldn't  _listen_ when I told them what happened…”  
  
“I said: all  _right_ , Sandburg.” Banks snapped as Blair ran out of breath. He looked over Blair's head at Jim. “He's got a point – the phone number I gave you was out of service, but it should have diverted through to another number. That  _will_  be investigated. So will the response of the units who went to the nightclub. But,  _you_ …” he glared down at Blair, “you need to rein it in, Sandburg. I am not answerable to  _you_.”  
  
Blair was still panting slightly, but he took in a deep breath in readiness, Jim was sure, to scold Banks some more. “He's right, Blair. Sometimes things just go wrong.” He met Banks' eyes. “He saved my life, Sir. If he hadn't set off that fire alarm, I would have been in real trouble.”  
  
“Huh. Well, we were able to find quite a bit of information on the office computer, thanks to that fire alarm.” Banks sounded only marginally less irritated, but he forced a smile at Blair, “So thank you, Mr Sandburg. Ellison, I'll send someone to take your statement later. Sandburg, don't stay too long.”  
  
Blair blinked at Jim as Banks stalked out. “How do you  _work_  for him?”  
  
“I've had worse bosses.” Jim held out a hand to Blair and he came back and took hold of it. Maybe a little too tightly, but Jim didn't mind. “Blair… I just… I wanted…” he swallowed helplessly, tried to pull himself together, “you know when you said a few days ago…”  
  
“Jim, it's okay. You don't have to-”  
  
“I want to, okay?” He swallowed again. “it's just… what you said…” he ignored Blair's shushing noises, “it's… I mean, me too.”  
  
“You too?” Blair chuckled softly.  
  
“I mean, I think… no, I  _know_ -” Jim stopped as Blair put first his fingers and then his lips against his mouth.  
  
They were still kissing when Jim heard a familiar voice. “You think you could spare us a little of your time?”  
  
Blair hurriedly retreated and Jim smiled at the nurse. “I'm all yours.”  
  
“Good.” She looked pointedly at Blair. “There are seats in the waiting room.”  
  
“Yeah.” Blair hesitated, then squeezed Jim's hand briefly. “We'll talk later, Jim”  
  
“I'm counting on it.” Jim closed his eyes with a sigh of contentment.  
  



End file.
